


Thief

by someoneplsloverobbierotten



Series: LazyTown Ship Week 2018 [1]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: (admittedly its an awful secret but still), (its ok tho glanni is also a sap), (just a secret one), Cuddling & Snuggling, Day 1 - Winter Clothing/Sweaters, Ithro is a Sap, M/M, Sweaters, lazytownshipweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-09 19:26:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13488198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someoneplsloverobbierotten/pseuds/someoneplsloverobbierotten
Summary: Íþróttaálfurinn is a thief (in more ways than one).





	Thief

**Author's Note:**

> Not quite winter themed, but hey.
> 
> (Just a quick note to say that I have no idea how hot air balloons work.)

"Did you _steal_ this?"

Íþróttaálfurinn startles, the rope in his hands slipping. He has to lurch forwards to make sure the sandbag doesn't fall straight off the side of the basket.

"I don't _steal,"_ he says reproachfully, busy tying the sandbag to its anchor. "That, I believe, is _your_ thing." He tugs on the final knot once to make sure that its completely secure before turning to see what Glanni's talking about. Then he sees the bright bundle of wool in the criminals hands and feels the heat rush to his cheeks.

"That’s funny," the Glanni scoffs, thrusting the fuchsia pink jumper accusingly in Íþró's face, "because I believe that _this_ is _mine."_

Íþróttaálfurinn shuffles uncomfortably.

"In fact," Glanni continues, watching the Elf's face get redder and redder, "I have been looking for this particular jumper for the past three weeks. It's one of my favourites."

"I uh," Íþró coughs, "I know. I see you wear it all of the time."

"You know, I'm not going to keep visiting you if you steal my things," Glanni says, lip curling.

"I didn’t _steal_ it," Íþróttaálfurinn protests. He thinks he would be a lot more convincing if he were able to look Glanni in the eye.

"Oh really?" Glanni asks, eyebrow raised, "how else did it get here then, hm? Did it fly?"

"No," Íþró sighs.

The Fæ drops the jumper onto his lap and crosses his arms, staring Íþróttaálfurinn down. "Well I know _I_ didn’t leave it here," he informs the Elf, "because the last time _I_ saw this it was on the floor of my bedroom, the night before _you_ went on another one of your hero adventures. You disappear, and so does my favourite jumper - and then I find it three weeks later in your balloon, with you. Coincidence?" Glanni asks. "I think not."

He can't do it. "I took it," Íþró admits, "but I didn’t steal it, I promise. I was just… borrowing it."

"Borrowing it?" Glanni repeats.

The hero nods. "Yes. It gets… cold up here."

Glanni throws back his head and laughs. "Not to be a buzzkill, Íþróttaálfurinn, but you couldn't even fit your _arm_ in this," he says. The tears from his laughter make his grey eyes shine silver for a second and Íþróttaálfurinn's chest aches, just a little.

Slowly, the F _ae_ gets up from his place on the basket floor, rising onto his hands and knees. _"I_ think," Glanni says, crawling across the few inches between them, "you took it because it smells like me."

Íþróttaálfurinn's breath catches in his throat.

Glanni grins and leans in closer. "I think you took it because you _missed me,"_ he whispers into Íþró's ear and the Elf shivers. "I think you took it because you _looooove_ me."

Íþróttaálfurinn pushes him away, face burning, and Glanni howls with laughter. "I knew it!" he crows, throwing his arms around Íþró shoulders and mashing their cheeks together, "I knew it! You utter _sap!"_

"Get off of me," Íþróttaálfurinn grumbles, shoving at Glanni's arm. He doesn't mean it though and the criminal knows it, rubbing his nose against the Elf's face and grinning.

"You gross sap," Glanni teases. He kisses the hero's cheek and Íþróttaálfurinn just _knows_ there's going to be a mark, he can feel it, like he can feel Glanni's grin against his skin.

"Alright, alright," he says, pushing Glanni gently off of him, "that’s enough." If he blushes any more his head might explode.

Glanni goes willingly, pulling away and showing off every single one of those pearly whites. "I can't believe I _corrupted_ you," he grins, practically bouncing.

Íþróttaálfurinn snorts. "You did not _corrupt_ me."

Glanni _tsks,_ sticking the tip of his tongue out between his teeth. "Oh but I _did,"_ he boasts, "you _stole_ from me-"

"Borrowed," Íþró corrects.

"-and so very _stalker_ like too," Glanni carries on, completely ignoring Íþró's interruption, "just because it smells like me."

"I- I am not a _stalker,"_ Íþróttaálfurinn blusters, offended. "I- we're-"

"Oh I _know_ dear," Glanni soothes, pressing another kiss to his hero's cheek, "don't worry, I think it's terribly sweet - and not at _all_ creepy - it's adorable." He winds himself back around Íþróttaálfurinn like a snake, or a particularly persistent blanket.

Íþróttaálfurinn rolls his eyes and does his best to ignore him as he takes his sleeping mat from the storage bag that’s sewn into the side of the basket and attempts to roll it across the floor, which is particularly hard when glanni keeps trying to kiss his neck.

"So very romantic," Glanni croons against his ear and Íþró huffs and rolls him off.

"Hush," Íþróttaálfurinn tells him, pushing him onto the mat by the shoulder. His face still feels very hot. "It is late. We should sleep."

Glanni goes down snorting, rolling onto his side propping his chin up on elbow while he waits for Íþróttaálfurinn to settle. The Elf check the ties on the balloon, makes sure they're still on the right course and takes a long, long look to see if the weather will hold before he lies down next to the F _ae_ , his back to him in the hopes that Glanni won't be able to see how red his face still is.

Glanni shuffles up behind him and curls his arm over Íþróttaálfurinn's chest, his cold nose nuzzling into the hero's neck. He can feel the criminal grin again and bites back a sigh. It doesn't matter if he can't see his face, Glanni already knows. He resigns himself to his fate and settles back into Glanni's embrace, relaxing immediately. _Gods_ he's missed this.

He closes his eyes, settling his hand under his chin.

Suddenly, something soft hits him in the chest and Íþróttaálfurinn jumps.

"There you go," Glanni says, his hand coming to rest on the Elf's hip, "wouldn't want you to have to give up your guilty little secret just because the real deal showed up."

Íþró doesn’t have to ask what it is. He's been sleeping with it tucked up against his chest every night for the past three weeks. He knows the feel of it by now.

He wraps his arm around it, almost crushing it against himself, and breathes in the scent it carries. It's faded since he took it, after so many nights with him instead of its owner, but it doesn't matter. Not only has it's mere presence become more of a comfort, but tonight he's surrounded by the scent anyway. He smiles, feeling the soft wool under his thumb and Glanni's warmth against his back and legs.

He rests his other hand over Glanni's. He doesn't thank the Fæ - doesn't say anything at all. He doesn't have to.

"Feel like I'm the mistress to my own jumper," comes Glanni's voice from behind him and Íþróttaálfurinn elbows him lightly.

"Stop that. I'd rather have you and you know it," he tells the Fæ quietly.

Behind him Glanni hums, flattening himself against the planes of Íþróttaálfurinn's back. "I do. Thief."

"I didn't steal your jumper," Íþróttaálfurinn says for what feels like the millionth time.

"You most definitely did," Glanni chuckles, "but I wasn't talking about that." His fingers slip between Íþróttaálfurinn's and squeeze.

_Oh._

"Goodnight Glanni," Íþróttaálfurinn whispers.

Glanni hums into his neck. "Goodnight, thief."


End file.
